


Captain

by TheBasilRathbone



Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Episode: Oolong Slayer, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 05:51:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20483930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBasilRathbone/pseuds/TheBasilRathbone
Summary: After months of misery working in PR with Wuntch, Holt returns home to tell Kevin the good news.





	Captain

The way Raymond opens and closes the door is a dead giveaway. It's not the defeated, reluctant thud of the door shutting that he's grown used to these last few months, or the sharp, angry click of the lock flicking into place. 

"You're in a good mood," Kevin calls, over his shoulder, 'accidentally' dropping a small cube of castello for Cheddar to whisk off of the floor. "I'm making prosciutto mushrooms for dinner, I do hope you're hungry."

After being 'promoted' to his PR position, Raymond had been coming home increasingly despondent and sour. Despite his own quiet pleasure at Raymond being removed from any dangerous cases, it was certainly not worth the toll it was taking on his husband. Raymond was a good man, a man of honor and justice, and to be placed in a workplace where his greatest contribution to the community was naming a mascot was slowly eating away at him. Kevin could see it, and had been trying desperately to cheer him. Digging out all of his favourite recipes, serving only his top wine choices with dinner, sitting through countless true crime documentaries...nothing worked. 

They never outright discussed it, but being removed from not only his first command but the first workplace that hadn't so much as batted an eye at his sexuality had been a painful loss. Though Peralta would never be considered Kevin's close friend, the effort he made to provide them both with a romantic birthday dinner had carved out a softened place in his heart for the whole of the ninety-ninth precinct. For the first time in his life, work for Raymond hadn't been a desperate struggle for acceptance, and Kevin would forever be grateful for the small time he'd been able to enjoy that. 

But now it's just like back in the old days, before the Nine Nine, except now instead of an entire precinct of co-workers out to make him feel marginalized and excluded, it's a single-handed attempt by Madeline Wuntch to degrade him. 

"Very hungry," Raymond growls next to his ear, and Kevin barely refrains from slicing through his own thumb in surprise as his husband's hands go wandering around his waist, his chin resting on Kevin's shoulder, the hint of a five o'clock shadow rasping against his cheek, appearing after a long day at work.

"My my," Kevin responds, leaning back into his embrace, picking up the paring knife again to carve the stems out of the portobellos. "You're in a _very _good mood. Did Madeline Wuntch get publicly fired?"

"No. That will be the day when I walk in singing," Raymond tells him, one hand straying from Kevin's middle to swipe a small cube of cheese from the cutting board, too fast for Kevin to swat away. The petty rivalry between Wuntch and Raymond had reached a ridiculous level, though Kevin could do little but watch it develop, exasperated. "No, the Witch of Brooklyn lives on. However, not in my precinct. I've been reassigned." 

"Oh?" Kevin asks, raising a brow. "Out of PR? That's wonderful news, Raymond. This isn't...a demotion, is it? I thought the move to PR was under the guise of a 'reward.' Where will you be, now?"

"No demotion. I'm going back to the nine-nine." 

Kevin freezes. "I'm sorry, but...how is this possible? I thought Wuntch wanted to punish you?"

"Mm," Raymond replies, "yes, she did, but this was out of her hands. In this case, Peralta found a serial killer." 

There's a long pause, and Raymond offers up no more information to explain the relevance of his statement. 

"I'm going to need more information to explain the relevance of that statement," Kevin says. 

Raymond straightens, releasing his hold on Kevin and allowing him to turn around so they can talk face-to-face. "The Chief of Detectives has been looking for a particular serial killer for a decade, and Peralta just arrested him and put him away for good. I helped him work the case." He continues on before Kevin can scold him for withholding the hunting of a serial murderer from him. "It was his solve, but an announcement was made this morning that the task force of the Chief had put the man behind bars for good. Shortly afterwards, I received word from the higher-ups that I was being transferred back to the nine-nine." 

"And you think Peralta traded credit for that case to have you transferred back? Why? Surely such a dramatic and violent case would have been a dream come true for him."

Raymond nods, leaning back against the kitchen counter, looking terribly handsome with his crisp captain's uniform and his hat tucked under his arm. Kevin had always loved him in uniform. "A lifelong dream, according to him."

"Troubling."

"Agreed. A four-year-old dreaming of serial killers? Nevertheless, the nine-nine were quite unsatisfied with the captain they had. He threatened the careers of Santiago and Peralta if they didn't cease their romantic relationship. He refused them felony cases to win a bet with a co-worker about the number of misdemeanors they could solve. That's not to mention his casual sexisms and racisms."

"Good heavens," Kevin recoils, "that's horrendous." 

"Peralta knew that I was as miserable in my circumstances and they were in theirs. The entire precinct did. Peralta and I shared a conversation after the killer was arrested. I...thanked him for giving me the chance to be a real cop one last time." 

"Oh, Raymond, you're still a real cop."

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not. Or was not, until this afternoon. I got to walk back into the nine-nine as their captain. They actually...applauded my return."

Kevin knows he isn't boasting, but rather is still processing a gay, black captain being cheered for gaining a position of authority in a police precinct. Applauded, like a prima ballerina taking her curtain call. "So you're officially the captain of the nine-nine again?"

"And just in time for the Halloween Heist."

Kevin refrains from rolling his eyes at his husband's quick display of competitiveness, but was too pleased to truly be irritated. "Congratulations, Raymond. I'm so very pleased. It was...very generous of Peralta to do such a thing." 

"I know you dislike the nine-nine-"

"I dislike cops, given the way they've treated you in the past and present. But _you _like the nine-nine, and they've accepted you. Us. And they not only appreciate the sacrifices you've made to get to this position but have made their own on your behalf in return. I can't pretend to have anything in common with them, but...they've made you happy. If they continue to treat you well, I can hardly dislike them." 

"Thank you." Raymond reaches out into the space between them, and Kevin meets him halfway, lacing their fingers together, the feel of his wedding ring warm against Kevin's skin. He savors the feeling, having made a promise to himself that he would never take their marriage for granted, nor the ability for them to get married at all. He never had.

Kevin squeezes his hand and then releases him, turning to fetch a couple of glasses and the bottle of wine he had decanted earlier. "This is cause for celebration. We'll toast to your new position. Or rather, being back to your old position."

"And to Peralta," Raymond acknowledges, amused. "After all, this does make a trend of him defending my honor."

Kevin freezes again, accidentally over-filling the wineglass. "I beg your pardon?"

"Didn't I tell you? He assaulted an author writing about Brooklyn officers. Punched him in the face. It was a couple of years ago, now."

"Why are you smiling?" Kevin asks, "that's horrible."

"I don't know about that. He called me a 'homo.'"

Kevin flinches. "Peralta called you a homo?"

"The author called me a homo. So Peralta punched him. I disciplined him for it, before Santiago told me why the event had occurred." 

"Oh," Kevin says simply, handing Raymond a glass. It was going to be increasingly difficult to dislike the nine-nine and the detectives working in it when they continued to be so kind and accepting and...protective of his husband. Perhaps he'd have to rethink his lifelong strategy of avoiding thinking about Raymond's colleagues. "Then...a toast. To the nine-nine and their rightful captain."

"And to you. For being so dedicated in your efforts to cheer me these last few months," Raymond adds, expression soft and content. "I love you, Kevin."

"I love you, as well." They sing the rims of their wineglasses against each others', taking a long sip of wine and then coming together for a lingering kiss, tinted with the taste of Bourgogne.

At their feet, Cheddar yips. 

"Have you been depriving him?" Raymond scolds, voice full of mirth. "You know castello is his favorite. You monster."

"I've been feeding him all afternoon!"


End file.
